


Collateral Damage

by HuntingHardyGirl



Series: Clairvoyant!Joe Hardy [1]
Category: Hardy Boys - Fandom, Hardy Boys - Supernatural crossover, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Clairvoyance, Clairvoyant!Joe Hardy, Closure, Crossover, F/M, Ghosts, Grief, Major character death - Freeform, Psychic Abilities, Soulmates, clairvoyant!joe, psychic!joe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-03 00:03:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10955517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HuntingHardyGirl/pseuds/HuntingHardyGirl
Summary: It's been several years since Iola Morton died from a car bomb, and Joe Hardy visits her grave for the first time. He needs to talk to her one more time.





	Collateral Damage

**Author's Note:**

> As an avid Hardy Boys fan, I have noticed in several books that Joe has had experiences with spirits, either seeing them directly or even helping them without realizing it, and eventually I came up with a headcanon that Joe is clairvoyant. Able to see and speak with spirits, he's had this ability since he was very small, and in some areas he's okay with it. But most of the time, he hides it, and it suddenly occurred to me; if Joe had this ability in the Casefiles era, would he ever be haunted by Iola after she died?
> 
> NancyDfan actually wrote another story thanks to this headcanon of mine and I strongly encourage you check it out! It's beautifully written: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9705980

"So... It's been a long time. I know I haven't really been around, and I'm sorry. Just... I had a lot of things on my plate. I needed to get away."

It was a rather beautiful spring day. The air was cool thanks to a breeze, the sun shining overhead, though the large maple tree offered quite a bit of shade. In his hands, the pot of morning glories were in bloom, the bright purple petals rippling a little, though from the wind or the slight tremor in his hands, he wasn't sure. Still, let it be known that Joe Hardy wasn't a total coward.

"I know it's not really an excuse," he said, reaching up to brush some of his blond out of his eyes. "I'm just an idiot. But with everything that happened, with my dad disappearing, and my mom and aunt dying... I don't know. Everything just felt so wrong. I didn't wanna deal with it. I ran away."

He looked down at his boots then, the heavy duty material smudged with suspicious stains, the full vibrant grass under his feet. Somewhere, he could hear the birds singing, a few of the species easily recognizable, and the leaves overhead rustling softly. Everything about this meant peace, meant safety, meant that it was a place where you could sit with your thoughts and hopefully not be disturbed.

If only it wasn't in a cemetery. If only he wasn't speaking to a headstone.

"I ran away," he repeated quietly. "Just like how I did when you were taken away."

It was a rather beautiful headstone, with a robin in flight carved into the corner, and Iola Morton's name scrawled in a beautiful script, the dates underneathing revealing she was only seventeen when she died. If no one knew her saw this, they would assume she had died in an accident or from an illness, but Joe knew the truth. He had witnessed her death, had seen the car bomb blow up, had been tackled to the ground when he had tried rushing to save her. The bomb had been directly under her seat, so she hadn't stood a chance, and she hadn't suffered either, but that didn't make things better. Finding the people who had killed her didn't make it better.

Running away from her ghost hadn't made things easier.

Because that was just something about this curse of his that made things all the more painful. Living with the ability to see the dead hadn't been easy for Joe. Growing up, seeing spirits, having people assume he was crazy if they caught him "talking into the air"... It was the one secret he had tried to keep under wraps from everyone, including his family, and after Iola died, it became all that much harder to keep his secret. Because he saw her, for days during the case, standing in the background, her dark eyes locked onto him, though in anger or resentment, he wasn't sure, because he never let himself acknowledge her. He couldn't afford to. Even having dreams about her left him a ball of emotions, overwhelmed with survivor's guilt, sobbing into his pillow to quiet the noise.

Losing the girl he considered to be his soulmate had left a gaping wound in his chest that never healed.

When the rest of his world shattered to pieces one by one, the mark of the Red Arrow appearing on their doorway after a case, the disappearance of Fenton Hardy, the deaths of Trudy and Laura, Frank and Joe ended up fleeing Bayport, to escape the grief, to escape their home, to try and protect one another. And Joe never said anything about Iola, leaving her spirit behind.

But she still haunted his memories, his dreams... Anything that reminded him of her made him think of her, her dark brown hair framing her heart shaped face, the freckles splashed across the bridge of her nose highlighting her dark eyes, lips curled into a smirk. She had such a fiery passion for life. How could someone like her die such an awful death? How was that fair?

After joining the hunting world, after meeting Sam and Dean Winchester, Sam had recognized the haunted look in Joe's eyes sometimes. He still remembered how much he loved Jessica, and he still mourned for her, and they ended up talking one night. Joe confessed how guilty he still felt, how much he missed her, all the things he never got to say to her. With Sam's guidance, Joe ended up returning to Bayport, to finally put things to rest.

And now here he was, holding Iola's favorite flowers, looking at her headstone, his heart still feeling like it was being crushed in his chest. The events of her death were still painfully fresh in his mind, and he would never forgive himself for that.

Suddenly the wind seemed to die down a little, and he knew without looking up that she was there.

"...You need a haircut." Her voice broke through the silence, the slightly gruff tone that was always in her voice, the kind that always drove him a little crazy when they were together.

"I dunno, I think it looks good at this length." Joe cautiously raised his eyes to see her. Thankfully, she didn't look like a burn victim. She looked how she always looked, frozen forever at seventeen, her hair half down, a tshirt with a cartoon emoji on it, her jeans well worn and her bright yellow converse shoes. Her face was unreadable, and she wasn't giving out any particular auras that put him on edge, so it was hard to get a read on her emotions.

"You always were a bit of a punk about your hair," she said.

"I guess."

There was silence for another few minutes before Iola spoke again. "So. You think you're ever gonna come back to Bayport permanently?"

"I don't think so," he admitted. "Too many painful memories."

"Like me."

He blinked, feeling the all too familiar stinging behind his eyes. "Y-yeah, like you."

She stepped forward then, body passing right through the headstone, until she was standing right in front of him. She looked so solid, so real, that Joe almost felt that if he tried to reach out and touch her, he could actually make contact. To physically touch her, to hug her, it was tempting, but even his powers had limits, and he knew if he tried to do anything like that, his hand would go right through her, would turn numb the instinct his fingers would slide right through her body. And that hurt, finally acknowledging her, having her so close and knowing that he couldn't do anything about it.

"I don't want you to be scared of coming home," Iola said softly. "I don't want you to be scared of me."

"You died because of me," he said. He had admitted it before, many times, and despite all the times of Frank trying to convince him otherwise, he knew it was the truth. Iola died because of Joe, because of their relationship. The people responsible for her death had been trying to kill Joe. Iola had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, quite literally, and it was all his fault. "We had a fight right before you died. If we hadn't argued, you wouldn't have gone to the car to leave the party."

"And if we hadn't argued, maybe the _both_ of us would have died," she replied calmly. "And then what? Both of our families suffer?"

"It wasn't _just_ the fight," Joe said. "You died because of me personally. _I_ was supposed to be the target of the bomb. You died because we were together. You died because of _me_." The tears he had been trying to hold back finally began to fall, tracking down his face as he tried not to drop the flowers. "You were never supposed to be collateral damage... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

Her eyes softened a little and she left a hand as if to touch his face, causing one spot on his cheek to be covered in pins and needles at the contact. "Joe," she said quietly. "You need to stop beating yourself up over this. It wasn't your fault."

"How can it not be my fault?" he whispered. "You're gone. You're gone and you're never coming back and it hurts so much to be without you."

"It wasn't your fault," she repeated firmly. "Evil people who were out to hurt you were responsible for my death and they're still behind bars thanks to you. You found them. You caught them and you made sure they wouldn't hurt anyone else."

"You're still dead."

"And if you let that consume you, then they win," she said. "Yeah, I'm dead, and it kind of sucks because I had so many plans for my life... For our lives, together. But life itself is unpredictable, and sometimes, it's just not fair. Do I like that I'm dead? No, not really, because I'm still here on earth. I would like to crossover, but I want to make sure you forgive yourself before I do so. I need to know that you'll be alright."

"How can I do that?" he asked.

Iola leaned in then, until he was forced to make eye contact. "By remembering that you are Joe Hardy," she said. "You've saved thousands of lives. You've stopped so many bad things from happening. Life did one fuck of a number on you and Frank, but you're still going. You can still help people. You're still living. I died because of a car bomb built by people who wanted you dead, but I don't blame you for what happened. I love you. Okay? I don't blame you. I will _never_ blame you."

A small watery laugh escaped him, and he reached up to wipe at his face. "You have every right to blame me."

"But I don't, because I can't. You did what you could to protect me, and you tried to save me, even though if you had gotten too close to the car, you would have died too. We had something special, you and me. But I don't want you living in the past. I don't want you to stay stuck in what could have been. You still have a life to live, Joe. Please, live it for the both of us?" She smiled then, and she looked so beautiful, Joe wanted to kiss her so badly. "Promise me?"

It took a few moments, but he nodded, swallowing around the small lump in his throat. "Promise."

"If you can't stay in Bayport, will you at least visit?"

"Sure. If you really want me to."

"I do. I need you to keep an eye on my family too. Okay?"

"Okay." Joe looked at her for a long moment. "I love you Iola."

"I love you too. Doofus." She stood on her toes, lips lightly touching his forehead, and for one moment he could feel it. Like she was still alive, still able to kiss him, and he could smell her perfume, and he longed to hold her one more time. 

When Joe next opened his eyes, Iola was gone. The wind was blowing again, and he just knew that she finally had crossed over. And for the first time, the weight in his chest seemed lighter, much easier to bear, as if Iola had taken some of the weight away with her. He took five more minutes to grieve, to let go and compose himself, before he placed the pot of morning glories in front of her grave, and started walking away.

Frank was standing by the gates, the Winchesters waiting in the Impala nearby. His grey eyes tracked over his brother's face with some concern. "You okay?" he asked.

Joe took a breath. "I think so."

"Was she mad?"

"No. She said I need a haircut though."

Frank chuckled a little, tugging his brother close to wrap an arm around Joe's shoulders. "Nah. It looks good on you."

Joe managed a smile. "That's what I said."

As they drove out of Bayport, Joe looked out the window, watching the view as the town faded away. Sure, Bayport had bad memories for him. But it still had good memories too. He just had to remember that, had to remember Iola before she died. She didn't want him to mourn her death forever. Forgiving himself would take some time. Learning to let her go had taken long enough.

Hopefully, someday in the future, when he died then maybe they would share a Heaven. That would be nice.


End file.
